Growing Up Too Fast
9 months in, 9 months out.
My littlest has been out of the womb as long as he was in. It's a little mind-boggling, how quickly these months have flown by.
Yet, I remember the long days and nights of the first few months, when I dreaded 6.00 PM, the witching hour, where he would cry for two hours before he finally fell asleep. No amount of rocking, singing, or bouncing worked.
Nights felt like they would never end, with round-the clock feeds and diaper changes.
Days when he did not want to be put down at all, dragged on, and I would be counting the minutes until his father came home so I could take a break.
Yet, it's like I blinked, and he went from being a newborn, sleeping most of the day (not so much at night!), to a 3 month old who rolled from back to front easily.
His face filled out even more, his eyes opened bigger, his arms and legs grew chubbier, and before I could say, “Hey, baby!”, he could prop himself up when seated. Then one day, he just went from rolling to pushing himself upright, to sitting.
His world changed. As did mine.
He did not stop there. At 6 months, sitting tall, he propelled himself and tentatively crawled forward, taking a few steps towards more mobility.
I felt those steps as the first of many, where my children start to grow up, and begin the road of needing us mothers, less and less.
With the starting of solids, breastfeeding sessions lessened.
More growing. A few more tiny steps towards growing up.
When he became completely competent at crawling, it wasn't enough. The day he pulled up to standing, I knew that his babyhood would end sooner than I'd like, and a toddler will emerge.
I'm not ready.
But he is. At 8 1/2 months, standing on his own for 5 seconds, he looked mightily pleased with himself.
Although he has yet to repeat that feat since, it's a reminder that the end of the first year is just round the corner. He may well be taking his first steps soon.
A few more tiny steps towards growing up.
I'm so not ready.